A First Time For Everything
by Hobbithearted
Summary: Setting: pre-Black Mesa Incident. How an accident prone, laconic scientist and his wise cracking security guard side-kick might have met. And what kind of hijinks might have ensued. Barney's POV
1. Chapter 1

Barney wondered if the Science Team at Black Mesa remembered high school. They'd probably all been nerds and geeks, right? Typically picked on by stupid jocks. Right, so... maybe this wasn't personal, maybe this was just them getting a small measure of revenge now that the brainy guys were in charge and the brawny guys were the ones getting bossed around. He wished he could point out that he hadn't been a jock, back in high school. He'd been the crazy consipiracy-nut kid, who hung out with his three crazy conspiracy-nut friends and talked about aliens and government cover-ups.

Instead, he just tried to sound sincere as he said, "Sorry about the delay, sir. I think I've got you all sorted out here, now." 'Here' was an ornery computer that had been refusing to accept any login identities whatsoever. Barney probably would have sounded more sincere if he hadn't added, in his head, _Aren't _you_ the one supposed to be good with computers? You're the scientist, I'm just a security guard._

"I should hope so!" This particular scientist didn't look all that old, but he _sounded_ crotchety enough to be at least two hundred. And he looked like he'd been sucking on lemons for at least that long. "I've been waiting for _three hours_, and now I'm frightfully behind schedule. This is the third time this has happened this _week_."

Barney hid a wince. He'd _just_ got on shift when this job had been foisted off on him, only fifteen minutes ago. If the problem had been cropping up that often, somebody must have gotten tired of dealing with it and decided to pass the buck. _Gee, thanks, guys. I'm really feelin' the love._

Out loud, he said, "I'm real sorry about that, sir. We-"

The scientist just waved his hand impatiently and maneuvered to get into the computer chair Barney had just vacated. "I don't need to hear excuses, just let me get back to work." He shot the security guard an annoyed glance and added, "I'm sure you have something better to do than waste any more of my time."

Barney didn't need to be told twice. After a borderline polite "Yessir", he happily vacated the premises and headed back to the Area 3 Security Station. Hopefully all they'd need him for now was to guard a door for a few hours.

* * *

"Aw, dammit, you've got to be kidding me. Two in a row? Gimmie a break!"

The security officer behind the desk just shrugged. "Sorry, Calhoun. New guy in the Anomalous Material Labs can't get into his locker. Looks like his key card's not working. Name's Dr. Freeman."

"Yeah, but can't somebody else--"

"Nope."

"Aw, _c'mon_-"

"Nope."

Barney glowered at his fellow officer, who just gave him a small, unapologetic smile and a shrug. He nudged a red toolbox over the counter and added, "You're probably gonna need this."

Grumbling under his breath, Barney grabbed the toolbox and stalked out to catch a tram over to Anomalous Materials.

* * *

He'd managed to regain his composure and adopt what Dr. Vance called his Security Guard Face: calm, stoic, businesslike. It was a helpful mask to hide behind when confronted with irate scientists. Which happened alot. It would probably help if the equipment at Black Mesa wasn't consistantly getting busted or exploding or just generally deciding not to work. Personally, he blamed it on the aliens.

The locker room was empty, except for a young man about Barney's age, sitting on one of the benches near a locker marked "Freeman." He looked up when the security guard entered.

"Dr. Freeman?"

The scientist gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, getting to his feet.

There was a moment's silence, before Barney realized he was waiting for some kind of verbal response that apparently wasn't coming. Dr. Freeman was just watching him,

expectantly. Fumbling to fill the sudden silence, he gestured to the locker. "That's your locker?" _No shit, Calhoun. Its only got his name on it in six inch tall letters._

This time the small nod was preceeded by a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Right." Setting his toolbox down, he bent down to inspect the lock. "Lemme see your keycard."

The keycard was handed over.

Barney swiped it through the lock a few times, and frowned when the lock didn't so much as beep. It should have buzzed a negative. He tried his own security card. Nothing. _Well, crap. _ "Have you tried your card on other doors?" he asked, glancing up at the scientist.

Small nod.

"And it worked on them, huh?"

Small nod.

Barney straightened up and handed the keycard back over. "Looks like your lock's busted, sir. I can get you in right now, but we're gonna have to replace it, and that could take a couple of days." He'd already bent down to rummage through the toolbox, so he couldn't tell if the apparently mute Dr. Freeman had nodded or not. He definitely hadn't said anything. Fishing out the crowbar, Barney turned his attention back to the locker.

It was a matter of a few minutes and some elbow grease, and the locker popped open. "There you go. Sorry about the inconvenience, sir," Barney said, adding, silently, _Cue snide remark in three... two... one..._

"Thank you."

The security guard found himself extremely glad that Dr. Freeman had already moved to get what he needed out of his locker, and couldn't see Barney gaping at him. _Holy crap, he talks!_

Getting ahold of himself, Barney cleared his throat. "Uh, no problem, sir. I'll jam it shut again for you, once you've got what you need." A few moments later, having done so, he continued, "Just let us know when you need to get back in, sir, and we'll come open it up. Like I said, it'll probably take a day or so to get the lock replaced..." He trailed off, realizing the conversation was turning into just him talking again. "So, uh, do you need anything else, sir?"

Dr. Freeman looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he spoke for the second time. "Could I," he gestured to the crowbar, "just hold onto that?"

* * *

It was two days before he ran into Dr. Freeman again. The silent scientist had been trying to use a microwave, when the thing had decided to explode and start a minor fire in the Rec Room. Fortunately, Barney and another guard had been nearby, and the mess had been sorted out quickly. Three days after that, Barney was called in to rescue Dr. Freeman, who'd got himself stuck in an elevator. Admittedly, it probably wasn't his fault. _Anyone_ could have been in that elevator when it had jammed. But Barney was beginning to detect a pattern.

A week (and two more minor mishaps) later found Barney heading into the cafeteria for his lunch break. He had to admit, even if the food wasn't all that great, the cafeteria itself was pretty awesome: Built into the side of a cave, the cafeteria was arranged on a sort of balcony. Below was a clear blue pool of water. Above, the cave opened up to the outside, letting in the sunlight and a few glimpses of blue sky. It was probably some kind of safety hazard, but it was pretty cool, all the same.

_That should be this place's motto. "Science: Probably a safety hazard, but still freakin' awesome." _ _And speaking of safety hazards..._ He spotted quiet Dr. Freeman sitting at one of the nearby tables, picking at his food while he read some scientific journal or other.

Barney wandered over to one of two fire extinguishers that were positioned in various points along the wall for easy access, and lifted it off of its hook. Then, tucking it under one arm, he approached the scientist's table. He set the fire extinguisher down on the table top with a decisive thud, and as Dr. Freeman looked up, startled, Barney slid into the seat opposite and folded his arms, looking expectantly at the scientist.

Dr. Freeman eyed the fire extinguisher, and then turned his gaze to Barney, awaiting the punchline with one eyebrow arched.

"Just being prepared," Barney drawled. "'Cos I _know_ you're gonna spontaniously combust, or the table's going to explode. Or maybe you'll get your head stuck in the trashcan or something, and then it's going to somehow catch on fire..."

The bespectacled scientist made a soft sound that might have been a laugh. He was definitely looking amused, even if he was almost as stingy with his facial expressions as he was with his words.

"I'm serious," Barney continued, starting to grin. "No offense, but you've got the worst luck I have ever _seen_. And workin' here? That's sayin' something. You've got _talent_."

Dr. Freeman's smile widened a tiny notch, and he shrugged, eloquently indicating his resignation over his complete and total absence of good luck.

Barney leaned forward, offering his hand. "Barney Calhoun. I figure, if I'm going to have to fish you out of any more trouble, I might as well introduce myself."

After a small hesitation, the scientist accepted the offered hand. "Gordon Freeman."

"Ah, Barney!"

The two men, scientist and security guard, both swiveled their heads towards the source of the voice. Dr. Kleiner had approached unnoticed, and now stood beaming at the two of them over the cafeteria tray he carried. Barney grinned, "Heya, Doc."

"I see you've met Gordon," Dr. Kleiner observed, cheerfully, setting his tray down at their table, before giving the fire extinguisher a questioning look. "What in the world...?"

Barney jerked a thumb at Gordon. "Just making sure I'm ready for the next Dr. Freeman inspired emergency."

Dr. Kleiner chuckled, "Ah, I see." The older scientist glanced at the younger, adding, "I'm a little surprised. I wouldn't have expected your reputation to have travelled so fast. After all, you've only been here a few weeks."

Gordon just shrugged.

"He's been busy," Barney explained, dryly. Then his curiousity got the better of him. "So, you knew G-... Dr. Freeman-"

"'Gordon'," interjected the man himself. When Barney glanced at him, he explained, "Just 'Gordon'."

"Alright." Barney turned back to Dr. Kleiner, "You knew this walking safety hazard, Doc? From before, I mean."

"Oh, certainly. I'm sure I must have mentioned him a time or two. Gordon Freeman was one of my best students when I was teaching at MIT... though he was a bit accident prone, even then."

"Huh. Come to think of it, I guess you have mentioned him before. I'd forgot."

They both glanced over, as Gordon stood up. He seemed to take in their puzzled expressions, and gestured to the empty mug in his hand. "Coffee," he explained, elaborately.

As Gordon wandered away, Barney quirked a brow at Dr. Kleiner. _Dammit, now he's got _me_ doing it. _"Has he always been this... talkative?"

The older scientist nodded, poking at his food a little dubiously. "Oh, my, yes. I think the most I've ever heard him say at once was during a discussion over the theory of teleportation. But he always seems to get his point across, in any case."

There was a loud _bang_, and then a sizzle from the other side of the cafeteria that made them both jump, Barney almost knocking his chair over. He looked around frantically for a moment, but it wasn't hard to find the source of the disturbance: Gordon Freeman was backing cautiously away from the remains of the coffee machine, which had somehow exploded and then caught on fire. Barney gaped for a moment. "Oh for... I was _joking_!"

He grabbed for the fire extinguisher.


	2. Vents, Part One

A/N: I actually had this written up for awhile, but finally decided to go ahead and post it. There will, in fact, be a Part 2 coming along, though I cannot say for sure how quickly. But, anyway, enjoy!

Ah, and, disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Half Life, or any of its characters, though the random side character I've thrown in is mine. If Valve wants him, though, they are welcome to him. :)

* * *

Someone was crazy, that was the only possible explanation for this, and Barney wasn't sure if it was him. After all, if there was any justice in the world, he should have been at home, relaxing on the couch with his girlfriend. And a beer. Maybe, if justice was feeling particularly generous, they'd be watching one of their favorite scary movies, and Lauren would cuddle up next to him and squeak in adorable terror at the appropriate moments, and he'd put his arm around her... Yeah. He really wished he was home, watching a scary movie. Instead of _living_ one.

Why. _Why_ was he crawling around in the vents, in the middle of the freakin' night? Whyyyyy.

"Whoever designed these things should be shot," he grumbled, trying to crawl and hold his flashlight _and_ his handgun at the same time. The handgun was an important part of this plan, because if it was some mutated rat monster that escaped from a lab somewhere, _he_ was going to be prepared, dammit. At least it wasn't that dusty. Just dark, and cramped, and windy, with tons and tons of places for small, mutated monsters to potentially hide. Not that there had actually been anything in here so far. But he'd seen scuff-marks in here that someone---or some_thing_---had left. He had no idea if they were fresh, but, to be perfectly honest, if this all turned out to be a wild goose chase and he _didn't_ have to deal with some horrible rabid beast that had got into the vents and was now waiting to leap out of the darkness and eat his face, Barney would not mind _at all_.

Normally, the night shift wasn't all that bad of a gig. He'd actually volunteered for it, more often than not. The scientists who were dedicated enough to stay in their labs this late were, oddly enough, actually more friendly than the ones Barney had to deal with during the day shift. Of course, there were some exceptions (coughMagnussoncough), but overall the night crew was, in Barney Calhoun's personal opinion, the best of the Black Mesa science team. Except when they dumped things like _this_ in his lap.

Okay, okay, so, this was probably in his job description somewhere. And he couldn't really fault them for getting spooked: The whole place was quieter than it was in the daytime, emptier, and darker, and suddenly they were hearing something moving around in the vents. And _of course_ that meant that _he_ had to go and take care of it. He knew he'd never catch one of the brainy science team crawling on their hands and knees through the air ducts.

Which was why, when he turned a corner a few seconds later and his flashlight illuminated a squinting, bespectacled Gordon Freeman, Barney yelled and only just managed to avoid reflexively firing off his handgun and accidentally shooting his best friend in the face. "Jesus! Gordon!"

Gordon didn't actually say the words "Who did you expect?" but he didn't have to. His expression clearly conveyed the message.

Barney slumped back against one side of the duct, and glared. "You gave me a friggin' heart attack. What are you doin', crawling around in here in the dark?"

Gordon held up the object he had been fiddling with when Barney interrupted him. It was a flashlight, though it wasn't living up to its name. Apparently the bulb had burnt out.

"Okay," Barney growled. "Lemme rephrase that: What. The hell. Are you doing. In the _air ducts_, Gordon?!"

There was an itty bitty quirk to the corner of the scientist's mouth, but he managed to keep an otherwise straight and sincerely apologetic expression. "I'm... exploring."

Barney stared at him. "Exploring."

Gordon nodded.

"You're. _Exploring_. The air ducts. In an underground science facility. In the middle of the night."

A raised eyebrow suggested that, indeed, this was all true, and now Gordon was waiting for the punch line.

Barney didn't disappoint him. His scowl turned to one of mock indignation. "And you didn't invite me?"

The peculiar thing about Dr. Raymond A. Peterson was that, unlike Barney Calhoun, he had no imagination whatsoever. Certainly he was brilliant, otherwise he wouldn't have been hired by Black Mesa in the first place, but his strengths lay in clear, logical problem solving, rather than in abstract thinking. Once a problem presented itself, he could usually work out the simplest, and most efficient manner of dealing with it. And, while it wasn't as though he couldn't extrapolate potential consequences to various actions or effects, he didn't come up with illogical or whimsical explanations.

This is why, when he was distracted from the small experiment he'd been running in his office by a soft shuffling sound coming from somewhere above him, he did not jump to any conclusions, supernatural or mundane. There was no data. A quick glance up revealed nothing but the ceiling, and an air vent that was mounted in it. The shuffling got louder. Dr Peterson looked down at his experiment, and then back up at the vent, torn between investigating the noise, or ignoring it and continuing with his work. He supposed he could summon a security guard to investigate it, but that would probably keep him away from his experiment even _longer_ than if he investigated it himself.

Making up his mind, Dr. Peterson cleared his throat, and called, "Err. Hello? Is anyone there?"

The shuffling stopped, but otherwise there was no answer.

He tried again. "Ah, I can hear you moving in there. Its rather distracting. If you can understand me, then I'd appreciate it if you could be a little quieter. Also, if you could tell me what you are, assuming you possess the capability."

Still nothing.

"Well, obviously you do not." With a shrug, he picked up a chair and moved it under the vent. Carefully, he climbed up onto it, and then discovered he had to stand on tip toe to see into the vent itself.

He did so.

And then he screamed.

"Y'know, Gordon," Barney commented, dryly, as his helmet banged up against an unexpectedly low part of the ceiling. "I really wish I could _see_ where I'm going. Do you think maybe you could shine the flashlight somewhere, oh... _useful_?"

The flashlight (which, Barney was sure, was a freak of nature and refused light up anything in a logical way, instead picking spots of vent at random) did not give him enough light to see Gordon's expression, but it didn't have to. Barney's imagination was more than capable of translating the icy silence into a Freeman Death Glare.

He was just opening his to retort when the screaming started. Much later, he would look back and be rather proud of his finely honed security guard instincts, which had him scrambling towards the source of the screams before he could stop and consider what a horrible idea that was. It sounded close, though since it was echoing through the ventilation system, it was kind of hard to tell. It wasn't hard to _follow_, however.

They rounded a corner, and found they could actually see. Light was coming through the grille of a vent, that seemed to open into an office. The screaming was also coming through this. And, as they approached the grille, they heard the sound of running footsteps, and a door being opened.

"Raymond!" Dr. Vance's voice drifted through the vent. Barney peered through the grille just as Eli knelt down next to the terrified scientist and put a hand on his shoulder. A couple of other scientists hovered nearby, looking anxious and concerned. " Good God, man, are you all right? What were you yelling about?"

Dr. Peterson, who was cowering against the far wall, pointed a trembling finger at the very vent Barney was peeking out of. "Something... _In_ there."

Eli glanced up at the vent, and recoiled, seeing movement behind it. "What th-"

"Hey, whoa, it wasn't me, Doc. I just got here."

The older scientist frowned, squinting up to try and see through the angled grille. "Barney... if this is some kind of prank-"

"No!" Everyone turned to look at Dr Peterson, who was still starting at the vent with wide eyes. "It was a _monster_."

There was a moment of silence, then Eli turned to look up at Barney again.

"Uh, it really wasn't me, Doc. Some of the other scientists were sayin' they heard some noises up in the ventilation system, so I was checkin' it out." He shot a glance at Gordon, and added, "I _thought_ I'd figured out what was making the noise, but... uh... I guess not."

Eli rubbed his chin, and then glanced back down at the trembling Peterson. "I suppose you'd better check it out, then. Its probably a rat, or something..." He trailed off, realizing that this rationalization was weakened by the fact that this was _Raymond_ he was talking about. The man just simply did not overreact to _anything_. Eli just couldn't imagine what might have scared him so much, and frankly, he didn't want to. "Keep us informed."

"Not a problem, Doc. Make sure Dr. Peterson's okay, would ya?"

At Dr Vance's assurance he would, Barney sat back from the vent and glanced at Gordon, then nodded down the duct, opposite the way they'd come. "Only way, uh, whatever it was could have gone."

As he turned and started to make his way along the vent, he caught Gordon's skeptical expression out of the corner of his eye. In a low voice, Barney explained, "This is Dr. Peterson. He's got the overactive imagination of a rock. A really dull, boring rock. If he says he saw something, then he probably did."

When Gordon's skeptical expression didn't fade, Barney persisted. "Aw, c'mon. We're in an _underground research facility_. Do you know everything that's going on down here? Maybe something escaped, got into the vents."

Gordon still didn't look convinced, but he merely shook his head in resignation and murmured, "Too many scary movies, Barney."

"Hey. There's no such thing as too many scary movies."


End file.
